Chapter 17
Elizabeth’s assumption turned out to be correct. The group was, in fact, playing loo. When Elizabeth walked into the room, she could immediately tell from a single glance at the table that they were playing for more money than she was comfortable with risking.
The thought made her pause momentarily. That discomfort was a holdover from her days when her pocket money, while generous, was decidedly fixed. Now, however, Elizabeth had more money than she knew what to do with.
Her pause only lasted a moment before she realized that it didn’t make any difference how much money she had. She did not wish to throw it away on a game of absolute chance, which was exactly what loo was.
She made her way over to a little side table which held a couple of books. She looked them over, trying to decide whether to peruse a book of poetry or to look through a book about bird-watching. Neither seemed particularly appealing.
“Would you care to join us, Miss Elizabeth?” said Miss Bingley. There was an odd note to her voice which caused Elizabeth to turn to stare. Miss Bingley’s expression was avaricious rather than welcoming. Elizabeth assumed the lady intended to fleece her.
“That is kind of you, but I think I will just entertain myself with a book until I am needed upstairs once again,” said Elizabeth.
“You prefer reading to cards?” asked Mr. Hurst. “That is…unusual.”
Elizabeth felt certain he was going to say, “odd,” but he switched it to something less insulting at the last moment.
Before Elizabeth could respond, Miss Bingley said in an insulting, teasing sort of voice, “Oh, you must know. Miss Elizabeth is a great reader. She takes no pleasure in anything else.”
On the surface, this did not sound like an insult to Elizabeth, but the implication was that she was intellectual and boring, which was very far from the truth. Still, she did not know how to defend herself from such a backwards insult. Simply declaring otherwise would be awkward.
Her defense came from a most unlikely source. Mr. Darcy said, “While it is true that Miss Elizabeth is a great reader, I am certain that she takes pleasure in many other things, such as caring for her sister or dancing.”
And taking walks, playing piano, singing, chatting, seeing friends and neighbors. Even sitting on the stairs, talking with a stranger. In fact, I don’t think I have ever seen her not enjoying whatever activity was occupying her.
Elizabeth felt her eyes widen as his thoughts pierced her mind. Apparently, he had taken a great deal of notice of her in their short, sporadic acquaintance. She quickly schooled her expression, however. Mr. Darcy’s spoken words did not merit such a response.
“Exactly,” said Elizabeth. “And I am certain my pleasure will be doubled upon seeing my sister well again.” This statement seemed to end the discussion, and the card players turned their attention to their game once again.
Elizabeth picked up the book of poetry, since it was less likely to put her to sleep in the middle of the drawing room than a book about birds. She sat down and began to read.
It wasn’t particularly good poetry. In fact, it was so full of mixed metaphors and nonspecific imagery that Elizabeth felt herself grimacing at it occasionally.
With such uninteresting words in front of her, it was very easy to get distracted by the voices which were coming from the card table. Mostly it was comments about the game, such as how much they were betting, but there were occasionally Mr. Darcy’s thoughts which came flying at her.
His mind seemed more active than usual. Elizabeth had noticed that, while he often seemed deep in thought, his thoughts seldom took the form of words which she could hear, leading her to be even more frustrated than she would have been had she not been able to hear any of his thoughts. At least, that was what she believed.
Now, however, she could hear him frequently calculating the odds that he would draw a good card or that someone else had a good hand.
After fifteen minutes of this, Elizabeth heard, She is far too distracting.
Who? Who was too distracting?
She glanced at Mr. Darcy to see if she could catch him looking at one of the ladies at the table, but his gaze was fixed on his hand.
She looked back at her book, but what little interest it had previously held was now completely gone. As she contemplated which of the two sisters at the card table he might be referring to, something niggled at the back of her mind, making her quite uncomfortable.
With a jolt, she realized that she was jealous. She did not like the idea of Mr. Darcy’s attention being taken by anyone. Except her.
She recalled the times when, in company, she had heard him thinking a compliment toward someone’s eyes, but she had never been able to discern who he was referring to. Thinking of that reminded her of one of his very first thoughts she had heard.
When he caught her as she slipped on the balcony at the assembly, he had thought, Those eyes. In that moment, it could only have been her eyes he was referring to. Could it be possible that she was also the one who had caught his attention while they were in company?
Surely not.
Elizabeth had never been on her best behavior in his company. She had spoken much more naturally and behaved less formally in his company than she did with anyone other than her family. Such behavior could not have given him a very favorable impression of her.
She glanced over at the table once again, and what she found was entirely shocking.
Miss Bingley was glaring first at Mr. Darcy then at Elizabeth. The reason was obvious. Mr. Darcy was staring straight at Elizabeth.
She took in the entire scene in a moment, which was fortunate, because Mr. Darcy immediately lowered his gaze back to his cards.
I don’t think she saw me, he thought as he stared at his cards.
But she had seen him. She had also seen the jealousy and anger that was building in Miss Bingley’s expression.
Elizabeth was uncertain how to act. While it was pleasant to know for certain that Mr. Darcy was attracted to her, it would be quite the opposite to be the target of Miss Bingley’s jealousy, especially in Miss Bingley’s home.
“I think I should go check on Jane once again,” said Elizabeth.
It was a lie. Jane was asleep. However, Elizabeth found that uttering such was the lesser of two evils. She simply could not stay here under such circumstances.
“Already?” asked Mr. Bingley. “Is she so unwell that she needs such constant care?”
“Not at all,” said Elizabeth, wishing to allay his fears. “She drank a medicinal tea just before I came down, and I wish to see if it has taken effect. I am certain she is not in any danger.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Bingley. “I hope to hear good news when you return.”
“I…I was not planning on returning. I think I will retire a bit early,” said Elizabeth. “But you needn’t worry. It was Mr. Jones’ willow bark tea, which is excellent at taking away a headache. Honestly, Jane is likely resting peacefully by now.”
“I suppose I shall have to take you at your word. If it is true, then I can only be grateful she is experiencing some reprieve from her discomfort,” said Mr. Bingley.
“I hope dear Jane gets a good night’s rest,” said Miss Bingley, returning to Elizabeth’s good graces momentarily. She ruined it, however, by saying, “Perhaps she will be well enough to return home tomorrow.”
Outraged, Elizabeth had no idea how to respond.
“That is ridiculous, Caroline, and you know it,” said Mr. Bingley.
“Even if she is completely well, which is unlikely, she should stay at least one more day so we can be assured her illness will not return. I apologize, Miss Elizabeth, for my sister’s rudeness.
She only wants Miss Bennet to feel better as soon as possible. As do we all.”
“Of course,” said Elizabeth. “Good night, everyone.”
The Hursts merely waved, but Elizabeth felt a shiver of pleasure when Mr. Darcy’s resonant voice said, “Good night, Miss Elizabeth.”
She turned to look at him. His gaze was intense, but there were no thoughts which reached her. She desperately wanted to allow herself to get lost in such a gaze, but there were four others who were watching. So, she turned and headed out the door and up the stairs.